


burns like a gin and I like it

by cassi0pei4



Series: my strange addiction [2]
Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29207013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassi0pei4/pseuds/cassi0pei4
Summary: The antipope believes his wife is quite under his control and she'll have to let him continue believing that, at least for a little while longer.
Relationships: Faustus Blackwood/Zelda Spellman, Judas Boys/Zelda Spellman, Nicholas Scratch/Zelda Spellman
Series: my strange addiction [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2144418
Comments: 35
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to a previous fic, which I've now made a slight AU of Season 2. 
> 
> Title from "my strange addiction" by Billie Eilish

Zelda's fingers had begun to ache. Faustus had spent the better part of an hour researching and rewriting his manifesto, while Zelda dutifully rubbed his shoulders and poured his tea and bit her tongue to stop herself from correcting his rather flagrant mistranslations of ancient scripture.

She let her mind drift, lulled by the rhythm of her movements, sinking into the serenity their repetition provided. She was no longer sleepwalking, it was true, but neither had breaking the music box rendered her entirely awake. There were moments when she felt completely herself, hastily slipping critical information to Hilda or smuggling supplies to the students in her husband's dungeon, but there were moments too when she felt entirely in limbo, curled against her husband at twilight while he whispered sweet nothings into her ear, and they both twirled endlessly to the tune that now played only in her mind. 

"Fetch the demonomicon, sixth edition," he said, gesturing to the shelf where it lay without looking up from his work. 

She released his shoulders and turned, skirt twirling, to fetch the requested text. She returned to his side, placing the book on his desk as he turned towards her. 

She did her best impression of a vacant smile, as she met his gaze. He surveyed her like a slow-simmering feast, one he might roast for hours before was deemed perfectly tender. 

"This dress is a bit stifling, isn't it? Undo those top buttons." 

His voice sent a shiver down her spine. Her dress had wide scooping neck already, the neckline held tight against her skin by a series of small buttons that dipped down to her waist. She raised her hands and slowly unfastened the top button, watching as he licked his lips. Her fingers fell to undo the second, the lace of her undergarment now peaking out. She paused, waiting to see if he wished for more. 

"There, now, that's better, isn't it? See how much easier it is to move like this?" his hands grasped her waist, twisting her torso back and forth gently so that her chest bounced slightly underneath the flimsy fabric. 

"Just lovely," he murmured as he watched, "but you mustn't keep distracting me." He turned back to his manifesto with a smile, "I have more work to do before we can play." 

Insufferable bastard. 

She pressed her legs together, want beginning to kindle in her core, and began to imagine all the ways in which she might kill her new husband. She would kill him, one day, she knew that now for certain. She would let the Council depose him. She would hang him by his thumbs in one of his own dungeon's cells and listen as he pled for her mercy for months on end. She would plunder every text in the academy to find the most agonizing death ever wrought and savor every moment of it. 

But for now the best way, the only way, to keep her family safe was to remain at the blessed antipope's side. And if she was to continue this farce, surely it was better allow herself to slip into character. A consummate actress could hardly fault herself for occasionally, truly embodying her role.

She resumed rubbing his shoulders just as someone knocked on the office door, her husband bidding them to enter. 

"Ah, Marcus, at last," her husband looked up from his papers as the boy entered his headmaster's office, "Is it done?" 

"Yes, your eminence," the boy nodded, holding up a bloody paper bag as evidence. 

Zelda's heart skipped a bit as she saw it, a sense of foreboding creeping down her spine. She had a sinking suspicion that she knew what that bloodied bag held. 

"Any trouble?"

Marcus shook his head, "I subdued the girl and her aunt with the sleeping spell you showed me and then ground the familiar to death with the meat grinder in their kitchen." 

Leviathan was dead. She tried to calm her nerves, willing her hands not to tremble as they continued their massage. 

Faustus pursed his lips and raised one eyebrow approvingly, "Quite creative, Marcus. I commend you." 

"Thank you, your eminence." 

Faustus returned to his papers, idly beginning to mark a passage of interest as Zelda let her knuckles dig in above his shoulder blades, trying to release some of her anxiety in the only way available. How could she clear Ambrose's name without his familiar's testimony? 

She was so lost in the consideration of possible strategies that it was only after a few moments that she realized Marcus was still lingering in the doorway. Zelda knew that look. She was sure that she herself had worn it dozens of times before: waiting at the threshold of this office, hoping for whatever trinket of affection or approval he might bestow. 

After a few moments, Faustus looked up again from his papers, noticing his disciple. 

"Ah yes, of course," Faustus smirked, "Forgive me, my boy, I quite forgot." 

He went back to his reading with an air of nonchalance, "Zelda dearest, I think Marcus has earned a nice reward, don't you?"

Her heart thumped loudly in her ears, her hands falling to her sides as shame twisted inside her, fueling her simmering desire. After his little demonstration with her only a few days ago, she knew what would come next as surely as an executioner as he raised the blade of his guillotine. 

"Yes, your eminence," she said, pleased she managed to affect his preferred sugary sweet tone. 

Faustus gestured casually, his eyes never leaving his work, to where the boy stood eyeing her eagerly, "Be a dear and give him one, hm?"


	2. Chapter 2

Zelda swallowed, stepping forward, her heels clicking softly on the wooden floor as she studied the boy in front of her. He was tall and broad-shouldered with a strikingly square jaw. His eyes travelled slowly down her figure with such blatant interest she felt herself flush. 

For a brief moment she was unsure precisely what he expected, but then Marcus began to unzip his trousers, making no move towards the chaise or either chair and Zelda understood, her own eyes falling to watch his hand as he stroked himself. 

She bent to kneel, but he stopped her swiftly, one finger lifting her chin, so that she was looking directly into his young eyes, as his other hand fell to the fabric that still covered her chest. He tugged, roughly, sending the remaining small buttons that secured the neckline scattering across the floor. 

"Now, now, Marcus," Faustus said, sounding almost bored, his pen still scratching, "if you're going to damage my property, remember I'll require payment."

"Yes, your eminence," Marcus murmured, voice already rough with want as he pushed down Zelda's flimsy bra and bared her chest to the cool air. Zelda cried out in surprise as he roughly pinched each nipple, a current of pleasure bolting through her. 

She was free-falling, her heart racing as the ground slipped out from under her and harsh reality drifted away with it. He pressed her down to her knees, and swiped his cock teasingly over her lips. 

"Slower than last time," he murmured menacingly and in a flash, Zelda recalled him, only days ago, forcing his cock into her open mouth as Faustus fucked her in front of everyone. 

He swiped his cock across her lips again as her husband spoke, "Remember your lessons, Marcus. Witches are often greedy sluts." 

He sounded almost disinterested. He could have been instructing the boy on slant versus true rhymes in spell casting. A wave of fury rushed through her. If he was content to whore her out, the least he could do was the courtesy of his attention as he did so. 

She swiped her tongue over the head of Marcus's thick shaft as her husband spoke again, "It's not Lady Blackwood's fault if she rushes - it's your duty to teach her proper restraint." 

"Yes, sir," Marcus said through gratifyingly gritted teeth, as Zelda let her jaw relax and slid further down his length. 

Faustus was right; she didn't want to take things slow. She wanted Marcus whining and moaning her name so loud and so fast that his unholy eminence would be all but incandescent with jealousy. It would serve him right. 

She slid further, letting herself gag a bit in that way that always stroked fragile egos, and then pulled back entirely, until her lips were just teasingly pressed against the tip, before repeating her movement again but faster. Marcus swore under his breath. She kept her pace almost leisurely, but it wasn't long before his hands came to rest on her curls and his hips were bucking with each swirl of her tongue. 

She was beginning to float on this feeling, on the want pouring off of him in every look and touch. As she pulled back again, she looked up at his face. Marcus let out a groan at the sight, loud enough that it almost muffled a knock on the door. 

Her stomach twisted. He wouldn't, would he? 

"Enter," Faustus called out.

Of course he would. 

She made to turn, but Marcus tightened his grip on her hair, holding her fast. For a moment she could see black boots on two pairs of legs and then the entrants had moved past where she kneeled, standing out of view so that she could only feel their eyes on her as she resumed her torturous rhythm. 

Faustus chuckled lightly, "Ah, boys, good, just in time." 

She could feel his eyes on her as well as he spoke, could hear the smile in his tone, "Yes, as you can see, Marcus is enjoying a little reward for his loyal service. 

"Now, are all the wayward witches secured in the dungeons as I asked?"

The tense silence that followed was broken only by Marcus's increasingly fast and shallow pants.

"No, your eminence," one of the Judas boys replied at last. 

"Elsbeth and the others escaped before we could get there," the other explained. 

Faustus sighed, "Boys, boys, how very disappointing. Zelda?" Faustus inquired. Marcus reluctantly pulled her back, so that she could turn to face her husband. 

Faustus leered at the sight that greeted him, his eyes raking over her bare tits and smudged lipstick, "Dearest, were you hoping that these nice young men might feed you their cocks next?"

Shame twisted through her, dragging her deeper into the wanton haze surrounding her. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. 

"Well, I'm afraid they can't," he sighed, turning back to his disciples and shaking his head as she schooled her face into some approximation of the appropriate dismay, "They haven't earned that pleasure."

"Boys, just look at how you've disappointed my wife," they turned to face her just as Marcus pulled her back towards him, thrusting himself back into her waiting mouth while sneering at his less privileged peers. 

"I'm afraid I just can't abide that," Faustus murmured, a note of real threat creeping in to his tone. 

"We'll find them," one of the boys stammered, hurriedly. 

The other followed quickly, "Yes, please, your unholy eminence, let us correct for our mistake?" 

Faustus considered their pleas as Zelda redoubled her efforts. Marcus groaned in pleasure, clearly reveling in his part of the display, his hips thrusting forward with every swipe of her tongue. 

"Very well," Faustus murmured slowly, "I'll give you boys a chance to clean up your mess. Perhaps you require some more motivation?" the threat of the words lingered for a moment, no one daring to respond. 

"Marcus, show your little friends the privileges I bestow for loyalty, won't you? Come all over Lady Blackwood's pretty tits." 

Marcus groaned at her husband's words, pushing Zelda back, and fisting his cock, once, twice, three times before spilling across her bare chest with a sigh of pleasure. 

Zelda leaned back off her aching knees, trying to regain her breath before turning to face her husband, who had begun to address his disciples once more. 

"Perhaps you'll both do better now, hm?" he taunted coldly, "Don't show your faces again until it's done." 

Both boys nodded and left hurriedly. 

"Marcus, you're dismissed as well. I'll expect you at tomorrow's meeting?" 

"Yes," he nodded, tucking himself back in his trousers, "Thank you, your eminence." 

Zelda stood, her legs shaky, her knees still protesting. She raised her hand to begin cast the simple spell that would return her to her earlier pristine form, but Faustus stopped her. 

"Ah, ah, ah," he chastised in a teasing, sing-song tone, clearly enjoying the debauched image she presented, "What have I said about tidying yourself up?"

In all honesty Zelda couldn't recall a single thing he might have said about it, but something told her she could guess. 

"That I shouldn't?" she asked, softly. 

"That's right," he smiled as she resumed her position by his side, "I need all my boys to know what a greedy slut I've married, don't I?"

It had begun to itch on her skin as it dried, but something about remaining on display like this had her almost obscenely aroused. 

She nodded, "Yes, husband." 

"Now, sit," he patted his lap encouragingly. She shifted closer, settling on his knee as he began to brush his fingers gently through her curls, setting the few that Marcus had knocked askew back in their proper position. 

"Oh no," he gestured to the clock on that faced them, pressing a kiss to her neck, "Did my silly wife think I'd forgotten her little afternoon treat?"

He tapped her softly on her thigh in a playful swat, before raising his hand and summoning a plate of cookies, soft pink raspberry and rose macarons, that had always been her favorite. She let out the happy sigh she knew he craved, and he pressed another kiss to her skin in reward. 

Some part of her knew instinctually not to reach for any herself, not yet. She leaned back into his embrace, pressing herself against him teasingly, "May I have one? Please, your eminence?"

He chuckled at her, lifting one cookie in his fingers and holding it to her lips, "Go on then. You know how I do love to spoil you." 

She leaned forward, biting the delicate confection, letting her lips brush against his fingers. She let out a soft moan as its flavor burst across her tongue, flowery and sour and sweet all at once. Faustus promptly ate the remaining piece before holding out a second for her to bite again. He fed her three more from his fingers, before kissing her, his tongue swiping across hers teasingly. 

"Sweet as spun sugar, just the way I like." 

He swiped his thumb over her lips as he leaned back, catching any crumbs and the smudged remainder of her lipstick, before sliding it into his own mouth, his eyes dark. 

"I'm afraid I haven't the time for any other treats now, though," his hand slid under her skirt easily, cupping her cunt and dipping a two fingers into her dripping core, "Satan darling, your positively dripping." 

She didn't even try to hold back her moan, as his fingers scissored and curled, fucking her. The palm of his hand rubbed against her clit and she couldn't stop herself from canting her hips to encourage him.

"Please?" she whined. She needed something to take the edge of this feeling, something to satiate this Lucifer-foresaken want inside her, at least for long enough that she might be able to reasonably concentrate on strategy. 

"I really must finish these edits," he sighed, "But I suppose you have been a good girl, haven't you?" 

She stifled a whimper of agreement, nodding, desperate for more.

"I suppose I could let you play with my favorite toy," he swirled his fingers for emphasis, "just for a bit while I work." 

She nodded immediately, even as he continued, "Would you like that?" 

"Yes, please," she hardly recognized her own voice as she spoke, "Oh, please, can I?"

"Go on, then," he murmured, allowing her hand to replace his as he dragged his wet fingers to her lips so that she could lick them clean. 

"Up on the desk, so I can keep an eye on you," he pulled his hand away from her mouth and gestured the small space that had yet to be covered in books or papers. 

She slid from his lap, abandoning her ruined underwear fall to the floor and turned to perch on his desk, leaning back against one hand as the other slid back under her skirt. Satan, she really was dripping. Two of her fingers barely felt like enough. 

"Good girl," Faustus said, smiling at the picture she made. 

He leaned forward, bending down and pressing her thighs further apart so that he could lick a wide stripe over her fingers and straight up to her clit. 

Zelda couldn't contain the keening sound she let out in response. She hardly cared if the students passing by his office could hear. She wasn't herself after all. She could hardly be held accountable for Lady Blackwood sounding like the wanton slut he had so often accused her of being.

She whimpered as he pulled away. 

"Now, now, don't be greedy, sweetheart," his hand swatted her bare thigh lightly, "If you're very good maybe I'll eat that needy cunt after supper."

He licked his lips, still wet with her, and hummed, "Hm, yes, that would go rather well with my port I think."

Faustus turned away, smirking and straightening up his papers before he picked up his pen and began to write again. 

Fury coursed through her. She wanted to scream out her pleasure so deliciously that he'd regret that he hadn't been inside her to feel it, that he'd regret he hadn't been the cause of it. 

She let her fingers press hard against her clit, rocking back and forth in a rhythm that she knew from experience would have her moaning fast with hardly any embellishment at all. 

A few minutes past in near silence, the only sounds Faustus's pen scratching across his manifesto to the rhythm of Zelda's desire. 

"You are being gentle with my toy, aren't you, Zelda?" he didn't even look at her as he spoke, "I'd hate to find it all red and swollen just when I'm ready to play with it."

She shook her head, whimpering. She couldn't lie, the spell she was masquerading under forbade it, but nor did she have any desire to say anything resembling the truth. 

He sighed, setting down his work and shifting closer to her. He looked the picture of exasperation, but beneath it Zelda could see his desire simmering, smoldering embers that she was impatient to fan to an inferno. 

He smirked, catching her hand, pulling it away as she whimpered.

He sighed dramatically, "As I suspected, always so greedy," he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss just over her swollen clit, smirking at the moan she let out at the feeling, "See how much better that is?" 

She nodded, biting her lip, desperately hoping he'd show her again. Instead he moved her hand back in place, his own above it, guiding her movements, "Nice and soft and slow, just like this." 

She whimpered, her body already aching at the tease, her arms beginning to protest this position. 

A small eternity passed seemed to pass, Zelda slowly driving herself out of her mind, her hand never moving too quickly, never pressing too hard, but never leaving her cunt and Faustus scrawling notes across his papers, occasionally offering a hum of pleasure or a murmured, "Very nice," at a particularly desperate noise from his wife. 

And then, the office door swung open. 

"Nicholas!" Faustus sounded surprised but delighted. 

Zelda's hand froze, her stomach twisting. Not him, any boy but him. 

"I'm so pleased to see you made the right decision," he gestured to one of his chairs, "Please, sit, we have so much to discuss."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ty to hacklesacademy for betaing)

Zelda didn't dare turn or slow her teasing touches, even as she heard Nick's footsteps draw closer and one of the high-backed chairs scrape across the floor as he sat. 

"Would you care for some tea?" Faustus asked.

"I didn't come here for tea, Blackwood," Nick snarled in response. 

Zelda chanced a glance at her husband, watching his anger flare and extinguish so quickly that if she hadn't known those features so well she might have believed she imagined it. He schooled his face into a smirk, barking out a laugh. 

"You've always been fiery, my boy. I daresay you remind me of myself at your age, but there's no need for rudeness here. Zelda, fetch Nicholas some refreshment." 

For a moment, Zelda froze, all too aware that if she moved to fetch the kettle, she'd be laid bare, face to face with her niece's beau. But then, she had to stay, didn't she? Had to find out what her blessed husband was planning with the boy? And after all it wasn't her, was it? It was Lady Blackwood. 

She slid off the desk, letting her skirt fall and taking a fresh teacup and saucer from the side table. She turned and met Nicholas's eyes for the first time, on display for him like some debauched Madonna. He looked away so suddenly she may as well have been truly celestial, her mere visage singeing his hell-bound vision.

She could feel her husband's eyes on her, watching with delight as she set down the cup and saucer and slowly poured a tall stream of the hot liquid for the young warlock who had taken to intensely studying a corner of his headmaster's desk. 

"Sugar?" she asked, careful to keep her voice saccharine and steady and her smile vacant. 

"No," Nick responded, his voice soft. 

Faustus lifted the plate of cookies from his desk, but held it out not to Nick, but to Zelda. 

"Lady Blackwood's special favorite," he said to the boy in explanation, "Aren't they dearest? Go on, give one to Mr. Scratch."

She realized with a twist of shame what he intended. It was so deliciously evil a part of her was almost impressed. 

She reached out for one of the macarons, turning to face Nick with a smile on her face as she brought the cookie up to his lips, held between two fingers that only moments ago had been buried in her cunt. 

"Open up," she said encouragingly. His eyes met hers and, with a pang, Zelda could see the naked desire written on every inch of his face as his lips parted. She pressed the delicate cookie towards him, watching as his nostrils flared, his tongue brushing against her slick fingers as he ate. 

"Isn't it delicious?" She said, careful to keep her voice innocent. Faustus chuckled behind her. 

"Thank you, Lady Blackwood," Nick responded as he finished chewing, his voice rough. 

Zelda set the kettle back on the desk, her husband staring hungrily at the scene before him. He gestured for her to return to his lap and she settled into it, pressing her back against her husband's front with a feigned sigh of gratitude. Nicholas studiously tried to avoid looking at her.

Faustus let one hand trail up to her bare breasts, teasing and pinching her nipples almost lazily. Nick's eyes tracked his movements as if he couldn't bear to look away and desperately wished that he could. 

"Now, Nicholas, I'm well aware the Dark Lord has set you a task with regards to Miss Spellman." 

Zelda barely stifled her gasp, passing it off as a particularly loud whimper. It seemed her husband's words were enough to shake Nicholas from his revery as well. He turned away from her, glaring at Faustus instead, his mouth opening to protest.

"There's no need to pretend, my boy, I know he's asked you to get close to her," Faustus said, brushing aside whatever Nick had been about to say, "What you may not know is that the Dark Lord intends to use you to trap her in hell, for all eternity."

Zelda willed herself to remain calm. If she tensed or trembled or showed any recognition of his words, her husband would feel it, and might begin to suspect something was amiss. Now, more than ever, she needed him to believe that the woman he was lazily teasing on his lap really was nothing more than his living doll, so guileless she could be privy to his every word and yet still pose no threat.

"How would you know the Dark Lord's plans?" 

"He told me himself," Faustus replied casually, "If Sabrina continues down this heretical path, he will have no choice but to have you lead her to a trap of his making, one that will bind her to hell for all eternity." 

Nick bristled, "Is this some kind of threat, Blackwood?" 

"My dear boy, you misunderstand me. I'm telling you this so that we might prevent it together. I may not be fond of Miss Spellman--" 

Nick interrupted, "You had your stripper pretend to serve me her decapitated head."

He _what_? Zelda focused on her breathing, focused on letting her body react only to the soft, teasing touches that she had once loved so much and that still, infuriatingly, left her wanting more. 

"--But the girl is now my niece!" Faustus barked, as though Nick's objection were unreasonable, "And, even if she were not, she would still be one of my students, one of my congregants. It is my duty to protect her from continuing to provoke our Dark Lord's wrath and to do that I need your help."

Zelda recognized her husband's fabrication as easily as spotting an errant pixie in a candy store. Faustus, whatever he claimed, had always possessed a protective instinct so facile it barely managed to extend to his own blood relatives. Whatever he was doing, it was not out of some deep-seated sense of duty to help, of all people, her brother's only child and the omnipresent pain in his backside. 

Unfortunately, something told her that young Nicholas had easily surmised the same, and planned to refuse his antipope's request like the devious little rebel he was. And the moment he did, well, Zelda would lose any control of what happened next and would never hear the rest of his little scheme. She couldn't have that. 

She let her own hand slide towards her cunt, pressing herself back against her husband as she did. She moaned, letting whatever desire that still twisted, unfulfilled, drip from every syllable, "Oh please, husband?" 

She squirmed, pressing up against her fingers and then back against him again, letting her voice take on that whining quality she knew he found obscenely attractive, "I've been so patient."

"Hush," Faustus growled, annoyed. And as he looked down at her and swatted her leg in punishment, Zelda met Nick's hot gaze, raising one eyebrow in a deliberately unladylike provocation, and winking, willing him to see her ruse for what it was and play along like a good boy. 

Recognition passed briefly over his face. He swallowed, steeling himself, and gave a sharp nod.

Relief swept through her just as Faustus conceded to replace her own hand with his. 

"Wanton little slut," he chastised, before turning back to Nicholas just in time to catch him shifting uncomfortably in his seat, palming himself through his denim, a consummate actor. 

Faustus smirked, "Is Lady Blackwood distracting you, Nicholas?" 

Zelda knew that tone, that tint of pleasure that he couldn't conceal when he made a surprise discovery of some new toy or treat. 

Nick's voice was rough, "She's very beautiful." 

Perhaps he was a better actor than she realized. He licked his lips as he watched her and even she couldn't tell entirely if his words were feigned, "If I agreed, what would you want me to do?" 

Faustus smiled, wide and genuine, "I knew my hopes in you were not misplaced. Bring the girl to me, that's all I ask, and together we'll tell her of the Dark Lord's concerns and persuade her to stop all this foolishness before it's too late." 

"I'm not sure Sabrina is open to your persuasion." 

Faustus chuckled, "Nor was her aunt, I assure you," his hand stroking over Zelda's clit so that her whimper might demonstrate her change of heart. 

Zelda hated him, more so every moment his sharp words twisted and stoked her desire. 

"But I can be quite persuasive," he trailed off, the threat evident. 

Zelda swallowed, fighting to focus. They had gathered all the information they could. She should get out, get Nicholas out, before--

Faustus smirked, "Perhaps you'd like a demonstration?"

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed what you read, please consider leaving a comment. Comments are <3.


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